


Laughter is an Instant Vacation

by rosewiththorns



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Detroit Red Wings, Family, Florida, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Moms' Trip, Parenthood, Vacation, injuries, mothers and sons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewiththorns/pseuds/rosewiththorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tove uses the moms' trip as an opportunity to comfort her injured son. Written per reader request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter is an Instant Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> This story is obviously set during the moms' trip the Wings organized on their Florida trip. It's more of a snippet than a story, but hopefully readers will find it enjoyable anyway.

“Laughter is an instant vacation.”—Milton Berle

Laughter is an Instant Vacation

“I can’t believe it took the Red Wings so long to run a moms’ trip,” commented Tove, her voice slightly muffled by the teal towel she had draped over the poolside lounge chair on which she was currently laying facedown. 

“Babs didn’t exactly like changing things up, Mamma.” Nik smeared his finger over the condensation droplets that had coalesced around his glass of ice-cold sweet tea, which he had long ago learned was worth ordering at every hotel and restaurant in the south. “Anything new gives him a nosebleed. When he buys a new car, he probably has the dealer splatter mud all over the tires before he drives it out of the parking lot for that used feel.” 

“Speaking of used—“Tove emitted a wistful sigh—“I could get used to this.” 

“Don’t,” advised Nik, sipping his sweet tea. “We’ll have to leave soon.” 

“Just as well.” Tove flapped a hand to brush off Nik’s remark as she would a pesky fly. “I can’t wait to show the neighbors my tan, because they’ll all be so jealous.” 

Careful application of sunscreen—Nik could smell the banana scent wafting to him on the breeze from the rustling palm trees—had ensured that it would just be a gentle browning her skin received, not a peeling-red lobster transformation. 

“I think I’ve done my back enough.” Flipping over, Tove’s eyes lit on a woman who had to be pushing sixty with flabby legs cut through by varicose veins shoved into a skimpy bikini waddling along the pool toward the snack bar. Biting her lip as she watched this woman’s progress, Tove asked in an anxious undertone, “I don’t look like a grandma in denial about her advanced age showing things nobody wants to see, do I?” 

“Of course not, Mamma.” Nik grinned. “You look beautiful, and not at all like a grandma.” 

“But I am a grandma.” Tove’s lips quirked into an answering smile, and somehow Nik knew she was thinking with affection of Douglas, hands, always sticky with juice, investigating the world one electrical outlet at a time. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Nik’s turquoise eyes, all mischief, gleamed. “This is the generation of cool grandmas who wear revealing clothes, dye their hair purple, and sing rap songs with curse words at the top of their raspy voices.” 

“Not me.” Tove shook her head. “I’m going to be the grandma who retires to Florida.” 

“Don’t talk about retirement, Mamma,” muttered Nik, massaging his knee, as he couldn’t help but think that his retirement was closer than hers. His knee ached worse than it did during the early years of his career when it seemed as if one injury after another had rocked it, and he supposed that his knee must have kept a tally of every bit of pain it had suffered when he was younger so that it could pay him back doubly as he grew old by hockey player standards. Not that he wanted to gripe when he had been spared the slew of injures that had befallen Hank and Pav the past few seasons, but still it was—as Pav forever pointed out when he was injured with such a woebegone tone that it was somehow more adorable than annoying— boring to practice and skate by yourself rather than with the team. 

“How is your knee feeling?” Tove’s gaze, suddenly flaring with concern, locked on Nik’s knee, and Nik, internally berating himself for making her worry when he could deal with the pain, stopped rubbing it at once, although he expected the damage had been done. His mamma’s fun in the sun had been clouded by the reminder that her son was hurt. 

“All right.” Nik put on his bravest smile in an attempt to ward her off, but she was not to be fooled that easily. 

“Let me kiss it better.” Before he could stop her, Tove had leaned over and brushed her lips lightly over the skin below his shorts, trying to kiss the hurt away as she had when he was a rambunctious little boy who fell and scraped his knees what felt like every other day. “That better, Nik?” 

“Loads.” Nik kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Mamma.” 

“I know you’re lucky to be in the NHL.” Tove fiddled with a frayed string on her towel. “It’s just that it’s not all basking in the sun, is it?” 

“No, but I’m not complaining,” Nik assured her dryly, since if there was one thing parenthood had taught him, it was that nothing was more aggravating than a whiny child. Certainly he wasn’t going to forget that lesson while Douglas was in the midst of the tyrannical reign of his Terrible Twos, constantly demanding to be picked up until that happened, at which point he promptly wiggled to be put down again, or pouting to be fed until a healthy snack was placed before him, whereupon he would throw a tantrum about not being hungry. “I know that nothing is more annoying than a bratty child.” 

“Very smart.” Tove chuckled. “Only took having one of your own to make you realize that, huh?”


End file.
